Black Eyed Susans
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: “She slept with him once, before everything else.” All she wanted was to avoid the pity she knew he’d give her. She’d seen it a million times before. But hiding out in the locker room wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. [GS “Fluff”]


**Title**: Black Eyed Susans

**Summary**: "She slept with him once, before everything else." All she wanted was to avoid the pity she knew he'd give her. She'd seen it a million times before. But hiding out in the locker room wasn't all it was cracked up to be. GS "Fluff"

**Pairings**: Grissom/Sara -ish

**Author's Notes**: You'd think with a writing hiatus as long as mine, I'd at least come back on the strength of a decent fic. No such luck, so I offer a low quality not-quite-a-post-ep-for-Nesting-Dolls post-ep to Nesting Dolls. Though I do have to congratulate myself for calling Sara's backstory years ago. G

And this story may not be great (or even decent), but I still like honest feedback. And trust me, nothing you will say can really be insulting. I have the English teacher from Hell, and if I can put up with him I can do anything.

**Disclaimer**: NOT MINE! I'm so glad I can say I don't own CSI or anything related to it; I rather like my belongings and would hate to see them burned by hoards of angry fans who believe in things like "characterization" and "believable plotlines".

-

She slept with him, once, before everything else. It was a long time ago, and she was never quite sure what to think about it. Some of them called him the Tin Man, and she doubted any of them bothered to remember the Tin Man had his heart the entire time. Some days she thinks it's some sort of badge of honour that she, Sara Sidle of the authority issues and self destructive behaviour, survived to tell the tale of shame; others, she's embarrassed to have been so dramatic. She didn't regret it, not really.

She doubted anyone else knew.

She never told anybody, and she doubted he had either. It wasn't exactly something he could go broadcasting; if it wasn't against policy, it was at least questionable ethically.

All she knew was that it wasn't something to dwell on, and more often than not she didn't. Most days it wasn't even in the back of her mind. But today wasn't most days; because today was her first day back at work after…. _It_, and by some horrible irony, the tenth anniversary of the event. She knew the latter not because it was a pivotal day in her life; no, she knew it because she kept a careful record of every seminar she ever attended and it was the last night of one of these she had brought him back to her apartment.

It was facts like that that kept her an enigma to her co-workers.

She told herself a million times there was no explanation for how they got there; he wasn't the sort of person to do something like that. And she wasn't either, not really. She hadn't even considered it before or since. There were days she had a hard time forgetting about it; she could usually compartmentalize it and move on, only a small part dwelling on it. But now she lay in bed, eyes focused on a small crack in her ceiling, running through every possible explanation, every possible memory, searching for a jsutification.

She didn't find one, because there wasn't one to find.

She had taken a three week course and he had been the teacher. After the final class he had taken the small class out for drinks at the campus pub, and she had been the last to leave. He offered to drive her home, and she accepted gladly. It was all so harmless.

She used to find it funny that the only time she slept with him was during that brief period of time before she fell in love with him; now she was just angry that she never really appreciated what she had. And it hurt. At the time he wasn't anything more than a good looking and intellectual man she was attracted to. A little older than the average, maybe a little wittier. But still just a guy. She had slept with her share of witty, intellectual men. Some she loved and some she didn't; but he wasn't anything special, not at the time.

The only thing remarkable was a conversation they had afterwards.

"There's this theory going around," he said, his eyes so intense she had almost shivered.

"Really?"

"The explosion of a star provided the carbon which is the basis of all life on earth."

"So we're all made of stars?"

She knew this, of course, but it thrilled her all the same.

"That's the theory."

She had smiled at this, surprised at how… sincere he sounded, if it was possible to sound sincere when discussing stardust.

"Right now, at this exact moment in time, there's a very high probability carbon from the same star is in both of us."

Sara wasn't sure what to say. She considered of making a crack about Shakespeare's star cross'd lovers, but thought better of it. So she had kissed him, then rolled over and closed her eyes.

She fell asleep after that, and when she woke up the next morning he had left. He had an early flight back home. She had kept in touch with him, wisely avoiding the subject of that night. They never discussed it, and as far as she knew he had forgotten it.

Occasionally though, he'd look at her in a way that made her wonder. She began working with him a few years after that, falling in love despite her best intentions. And so she found herself as she was; desperately trying to keep her behaviour professional and only sporadically slipping up.

-

At work that night she walked quickly and hoped she wouldn't see him. It couldn't really be avoided, but she at least hoped to stave off the encounter until there were witnesses. He wouldn't say anything in front of others. But if they were alone and he said something, gave some indication… she wasn't sure what she'd do.

She briefly wondered if she should be worried that her biggest concern after a suspension was whether or not he remembered one stupid night ten years earlier.

It wasn'tas ifshe didn't know it would probably meant nothing, just a funny little experience they shared a long time ago. But there was a small part of her that hung onto hope; it was that part that held out for a sign throughout the years, a _glimmer_ of the _possibility_ if was something more.

When she passed his office she saw he was doing paperwork, and she almost stopped from sheer force of habit. Knock on the door frame, smile and say hi. Find a way to say thank you without saying it. But her freedom to do that was over, and the desire was something she overcame.

When she made it to the locker room, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could hang out here until shift started; childish, yes, but she didn't really care.

There was a vase of black eyed susans in front of her locker.

It didn't register at first, because there was no reason for them to be there. But as she opened the locker she hit them. Bending to pick them up, she placed them on the bench when she heard movement behind her; a combination of subtleties told her it was him.

Why the hell did they have a co-ed locker room?

If she stayed like this, maybe he'd go away. Again with the childish defenses, but it was all Sara could think of at the moment. She should really think ahead for these types of situations.

She stood slowly, not turning around. The vase was in her hand, the weight of the cut crystal keeping her grounded.

"You, uh, had a vase of them. On your table."

He stumbled, and to her familiar ear it was obvious he was nervous. The 'uh' gave it away. She doubted he'd ever said that word in his life, and certainly not in the last twenty years. She sighed, knowing she had to face the proverbial music.

He looked uncomfortable, waiting for some indication from her.

"They're my favourite flower."

She didn't add that her then-boyfriend Roger had given them to her. No need to further complicate something that had already stumped them both.

"Well, I was at the store and, uh, saw them…."

"Thank you. They're very nice. And the vase is beautiful."

Now that she was over the initial shock she could tell it was. Expensive too, but maybe she was wrong about that. She stared at it, not trusting herself to meet his eyes.

"You know, there's this theory going around," she said finally, tearing her gaze from the vase.

"Really?"

His tone was mildly curious.

"Yeah. The chances are carbon dust from an exploding star is the foundation for all life."

"So we're all made of stars?"

He remembered. If there was any doubt, the teasing glint in his eyes stopped it.

She put on her most winning smile, the one a particularly unimaginative boyfriend had said could charm the birds from the trees. That wasn't the reason she broke up with him, but it was the final thought she had as she dropped off the last of his stuff.

"That's the theory."

"I remember something about that. Isn't there supposed to be a very high chance carbon from the same star is in everyone at the same moment?"

"Name any two people and there's a good chance."

"You and I."

Damn it. He wasn't supposed to say it.

There was silence now, an uncomfortable expectation between them that the other would say something brilliant and break the unease. Naturally, neither one did, and the moment dragged on.

"We should… go."

She smiled in an attempt to assure him the flowers were fine and she could keep the status quo if that was what he wanted.

"Alright."

She stepped passed him, vase in hand and forgetting what she needed from her locker in the first place.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

"The flowers."

"Oh, right."

She was blushing like some damn teenager when she passed by him again.

"Would you like to… get dinner tonight?"

Take a deep breath, she coached herself. It wasn't exactly a date. And there was that hint of pity she had tried so hard to escape. It was just… co-workers having food. Perfectly normal and ethical and not at all what she wanted.

"Sure."

He looked relieved; the invitation had hung awkwardly in the air for a moment.

"It's a date then."

"Okay."

Why did he have to break out the stereotypical line? Now she was going to obsess about it all shift. And knowing him, she'd leave the meal with mixed signals and more confusion. She could ask him, but somehow that seemed wrong.

"What time?"

"We'll play it be ear."

She smiled and put her flowers in the locker.

"We'll, uh, play it by ear."

-

If you don't shoot me, I'll give you a cookie.


End file.
